So Much for Secrets
by Ariels Lament
Summary: A little rewrite of Slughorn's party in HBP in which Horace has a bit too much to drink and inadvertently spills the beans. Implied Severus/Lily.Ish.


**Disclaimer: Character's aren't mine, yada yada, nor is some of the dialogue. **

_**A/N:** So of course I watched the new movie and decided to re-read the Deathly Hallows. And then I found it funny that for all Harry hears about Snape vs James, that surely someone, somewhere, would have let slip about Snape and Lily. And then I remembered this scene in the book and thought Slughorn would be just the perfect one to do it. :) Wrote the first half a draft in Snape's perspective before opting for Slughorn's...I really like it a lot better this way, though. Enjoy! Comments appreciated. Events from Slughorn's party in the chapter "The Unbreakable Vow". _

"Instinctive, you know—like his mother!"

Horace Slughorn simply couldn't help it. He liked to brag. About successful students from his past and present (and he sometimes got a head start on those he hoped to have in the future); about the influences he carried with VIP's around the world; and especially about the many glorious gifts and benefits afforded him from these grand people.

With a final swig from his wine glass, he set it, emptied, down upon a nearby table. That's when a rigid figure all in black caught his eye. Severus Snape looked as though he'd only just stopped, mid-step, and Horace beamed. Wait until he heard about this. Perhaps it would help bridge the gap between the young man and the boy. So, before the figure could slink away back into the shadows, he threw out a well aimed arm and drew the Slytherin Head of House into his and Harry's conversation. The teenager looked surprised, though he couldn't help but to note, not pleasantly so. Same went for the man now pinned to his side.

"Stop skulking and come join us, Severus!"

The man only scowled, but not for much longer, Horace was sure of it.

"I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making. Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years." He grinned at the two as Severus absorbed this, but his intentions seemed to have the opposite effect. If possible Severus' scowl deepened while Harry stiffened slightly at his praise. Modest, he thought, much like his mother.

"Funny, I never had the impression I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

But the Potions master refused to allow the comment to deter what he saw to be his well-earned praise. He snatched a full glass from a passing tray and raised it, pulling the sourpuss locked to his side a bit closer before shouting, "Well, then, it's natural ability!" Severus cringed, and Horace felt a bit sheepish, what with the close proximity of the man's ear to his own untamed voice. He took another gulp from his newly procured glass all the same. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death, never had a student produce finer on the first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus—"

The man in question's eyes flashed and his expression became unreadable, though he fixed Harry with a look so intense it was as though he were trying to peer into the boy's mind. Harry did seem to be avoiding his teacher's eyes, but Horace was feeling delightfully light and jovial and waved away the observation at once. He just had to strike the right chord was all! And he had a pretty good idea which one that might be. He could see a retort coming on, but squelched it before Severus could make a sound.

"Not Lily either, you know."

Severus gave a jolt in his unrelenting grip, and he didn't have to look to know that Harry's attention was full on himself. It was definitely _a_ chord in any case, and one that Horace could play up on quite easily at that. He did love to reminisce aloud about his favorites, and those two had definitely held a spot in his memory, to be sure. What a team.

"But then, you two weren't partners anymore by that time, were you?"

A sharp intake of breath made him aware that he'd said the last bit out loud, but he'd hardly the time to wonder about it before young Harry spoke up at last.

"What? Partners?"

Horace blinked. He didn't know? Well, then, what a perfect opportunity to tell him! It was far too good a story to pass up, to be sure!

"Ah, so Professor Snape never mentioned it to you before, did he, the stiff!" Perhaps had his stomach been several glasses of alcohol emptier, he would have noticed the slight tremble in the shoulders he so tightly gripped to be of rage, found the audible huffs of breath to be a warning to stop while he was ahead, and maybe, just maybe, he would have worried that the twitching fingers he felt, even through layers of robes, were itching to close themselves around his throat—would have, in fact, had there not been such a crowd about. But as it stood, Horace was pleasantly oblivious to such signs, all the while adding yet another glass to the mix.

"Severus and your mother were a fine team, they were. A _fine_ team—never taught two more extraordinary students in my life, since then or before!"

_Well, there may have been _one_ before_, a voice in the back of his mind nagged. Horace swallowed at the thought, glass half raised to his mouth and gave the drink a fearful glance. He mastered himself quickly enough, though, and raised it the rest of the way, draining it in the process. He sent a fair nod in a startled Harry's direction. "That is, of course, to say, not 'til you, my dear boy.

"It warmed my heart, truly, to see such a strong friendship arise between a Slythering and Gryffindor, really it did—was a Slytherin myself here, and Head of the House for more years than I wish to recount to you. I know all about the intense rivalries here—between those two Houses in particular—but it was e_specially_ nasty in those years of You-Know-Who's reign. There was hardly a time you would see Severus or Lily roaming about without the other in their first few years. But," he let the word linger on his lips for a bit before he heaved a sad sigh, studying and twisting about the empty glass in his hand before setting it down to join the other, "I suppose House politics won out in the end, after all, unfortunately.

"A bit of a nasty shock, it was for me when they started up my NEWT classes, you know—I had been very excited to see them in action at a level I thought they might thoroughly enjoy. But nothing. Paired them at the same table, as usual, same Draught for the first class," he nodded at Harry again, noticing the slack-jawed disbelief displayed on his features, "but there was none of the teamwork from years past, none of the diligent murmurings or cleverness I had come to expect from the two. It was as though the other didn't exist. Both came close, but not quite there, either of them. But they had terrible tempers, the both of them, and at first I put it off to be a lover's tiff!

"Oh! You should have seen them then!" he began excitedly at the look on Harry's face. Looked like he'd come face-to-face with You-Know-Who himself. "Always expected them to end up together, I did—terribly surprising when your father James—"

And that's when it struck Horace that he'd said too much. _Unforgivably_ too much. Even before he heard the pained gasp beside him, felt what might have been a silent sob break loose from what he finally realized to be a very trapped man, he felt his own eyes bulge slightly with realization and his stomach plummet; to where he wasn't quite sure, but the sensation was enough for him to feel suddenly more sober than he had all night.

"Oh-oh dear," he said, looking around. He avoided looking directly at Severus, unsure yet of what to do if that lurch really had been a sob. No one else in the hustle and bustle of the room seemed to be paying the trio any mind, Horace was relieved to see, and the air was so filled with the sounds of pleasant conversation, polite laughter, and the clinking together of fine dinnerware, that no one nearby would hear it if another gasp was let loose. Even so, best to take a leaf out of the dismayed man's book and seek refuge in the shadows, just in case. He moved forward, his hold on Severus now more supportive than restraining, but stopped when he almost walked into Harry.

"Harry! My dear boy...." He had quite forgotten that the boy was still standing there, and his eyes continued to dart about the room in search of wandering eyes. "Why Professor Snape and I...er—we were...just on our way—"

"There's an empty table in the corner, sir." Harry's face was as dazed and lost as Horace felt by the very awkward, very improbable position in which he himself had somehow managed to force them. It wasn't every day someone was able to provoke an emotion other than anger or bitterness from Severus Snape, and he very much hoped he would be able to live the thing down.

"Right then. Thank you, Harry—always a pleasure—mustn't keep your enchanting ladyfriend waiting any longer, though, I don't think. Come along now, Severus."

The short trip to the well-shadowed corner was mostly uneventful. There were a few concerned and curious looks tossed their way, but Horace simple waved them away.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured them in a far more lighthearted tone than he felt, "Professor Snape's just feeling a bit ill is all."

It seemed to work, and if the students' expressions were anything to judge by, it was safe to assume nothing too un-Severus-like was showing on the younger man's face, that he merely looked 'a bit ill'. He didn't dare take a peak until he had Severus seated, but he seemed to have mastered himself well, a bit weary looking, somewhat peaky, but his breathing was back to normal. His head leaned forward, eyes closed, and he sagged in his chair, quite unlike his usual disciplined self. Horace cast a quick glance around at the refreshments before coming to the conclusion that something stronger was in order. He'd been saving it for a rainy day, and now was as good a time as any. It was a good thing he had sent for it along with a little gift for the Headmaster, too.

With a wave of his wand, a bottle of firewhiskey and one of his own goblets appeared in thin air, taking it upon themselves to start serving as he put his wand away again. He set the bottle on the table and knelt down to hand Severus the goblet.

"Here you go, Severus, drink up. I think it might help a bit."

In the end, he had to shove it into Severus' hands himself, forcing long, lax fingers to close themselves around the stem. It seemed for a moment that he wouldn't grip, would let the drink slip through and fall to the ground without paying it any mind. Horace contemplated for a moment whether or not should take it back and tip it into the man's mouth himself but was immediately freed from the thought when, in a sudden flurry of movement, Severus straightened and downed the whole thing in one go, without so much as making a face. The vague impression that Severus knew very well how much the alcohol would help flitted across the older man's mind, and he took a seat on the opposite side of the table, still recovering from the awkwardness of the entire night himself.

"Help yourself," Horace said wearily, and, with a flick of his wand, the bottle filled the goblet once more. "See it as the beginnings of an apology."

Black eyes flicked to his own briefly before returning to gaze forward into space. Severus had managed to regain his usual expressionless mask, though now the beginnings of a scowl were dragging down the ends of his lips. He took another drink, more controlled this time, with both hands holding the goblet.

Horace fidgeted with the sleeve of his robes as they sat, silent, detached from the boisterous goings on of the evening. To say that the air was uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century. What could he possibly say at the moment? Or was it, perhaps, best to say nothing at all, pretend the whole thing never happened? But his eyes passed over Harry in the throng of merrymakers, and he only hesitated a moment before speaking.

"It must be difficult for you, Severus..." he said softly.

He could feel the other man's shrewd eyes upon him, knew when Severus tensed that he had followed Horace's own to spot Harry in the crowd.

"I apologize for mentioning it so flippantly...or at all, for that matter."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a most welcome distraction came to them in the form of a gatecrashing Draco Malfoy. He was being dragged aloft by a positively overjoyed Filch. The two teachers were on their feet at once. The affair was resolved within a few minutes, ending with Severus escorting the boy back to the dorm, no harm done. They swept out of sight and left him there feeling more exhausted than he was sure he had any right to, and Horace, grabbing a half-filled wine glass from a startled passerby's grasp, drained it in a single gulp, all the while absolving to never get too deeply entangled in another student's life ever again. For some reason or another, it just never seemed to pan out all that well.


End file.
